A Dance with Dragons
by LostCriesofTime
Summary: Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam rivers; carefree and happy. Rhaegar had it all: a wife, children, power. But his love life was never about him until he met her, and even then he was tightly bound. Rhaegar and Lyanna's story. /Rating may go up/
1. A Stream of Wolves

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

_**Quick Summary:** Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam the rivers; living a carefree existence she was secure and content. But with each passing year she blossomed into a startlingly beautiful woman who caught the eye of more than one powerful man. She had read stories of a woman named Helen for whom a great war was fought, never had she imagined she would share such a fate._

_Would she escape the clutch of destiny with her life intact, or would the fire and blood consume her whole?_

_Rhaegar was a fierce and proud leader, a warrior, a prince, a husband and a father. Yet it took the spirit and passion of a girl from the North to teach him what made life worth living, but when the price was paid in rivers of blood and cries of babes was it too high?_

_"When you play the Game of Thrones you win or you die."_

_..._

* * *

_**Chapter one:**_

(The Stream of Wolves)

* * *

Aged Three

Today was the day; her mother's screams could be heard from the Godswood as her baby brother or sister made ready to enter the world. She hoped it would be a brother as she loved having brothers, she didn't know what she'd do with a girl. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Other girls were no fun.

"Ly," her brother Brandon called, waving to her as she stumbled towards him. She was getting more steady on her feet but it was frustrating to still not be able to do all of the things she longed to with her older siblings. "Come with us to explore while the servants are busy."

Her brother Brandon, aged nine, was adventurous and impulsive, always looking for the next fun escapade. He was the leader of the Stark siblings and soon he would have another to add to his pack, but not just yet. It could be hours before the baby was born and he was right, now was the perfect time to have some fun as everyone's attention would be on their mother. The idea of such a window of freedom brought forth a heavily dimpled smile from Lyanna, lighting up her still chubby face.

Eddard, her other older brother, aged seven, frowned. "She's a little young, Bran," he cautioned, ever the sensible child having to temper his brother's rash schemes.

Lyanna's smile dropped immediately, replaced instead with a scowl that had Brandon chuckling.

"I am _not_ too young!" she growled, narrowing her eyes at Eddard and feeling the heat creep up on her cheeks. Then she turned pleading eyes upon Brandon, hoping he would overrule their cautious brother's concerns.

"Not today you aren't, you're going to be an older sister soon," Brandon grinned down at the toddler before him before fixing his gaze on Eddard, "and we need to start treating her like it."

Eddard said nothing but resolved to keep his eyes trained on her at all times. It was all very well and good to decide now that she was able to join them, but just saying it was so meant very little. The reality was that she was unsteady on her feet, weak and still so little. He could not bear to see any harm come to her, their baby sister, but if Brandon decided she was coming with them then he would just have to deal with that and try to do his best by her.

Lyanna, however, felt she was perfectly ready to join her brothers as they snuck out of the safety of Winterfell and she held her head up high as she clamoured after the two older, long limbed children once they set off together. She would not hold them back, she would prove to Eddard that Brandon's confidence in her was not misplaced.

Imagine what adventures lay outside of the walls of Winterfell...

They managed to climb over the wall without a problem, much to Lyanna's pride. Although she had had to be helped by the two boys as she found the hand holds and foot holes in the wall, she still felt she had accomplished much as she sat astride the red bricks looking down and out towards her family home. Feeling the wind rush through her hair and whip against her face her heart beat quickened. In her young life she had never known such freedom.

"Fall into my arms," Brandon called once he reached the ground on the other side. It was not far down, not really, the wall was at most five feet tall. But to Lyanna it felt like the drop went on forever, she had never looked down on her brother before and her stomach flipped as she readied herself to fall. Her heart beat even quicker and as she pushed off from the wall her insides seemed to turn to mush for that one moment as she fell, a strange and exhilarating sensation.

Once she was safely wrapped in her brother's arms she looked up at him with shining eyes.

"Can we do that again?" she asked, overwhelmed with the adrenaline surging through her system.

He laughed as he gently brushed some strands of hair out of her face. "Later, little cub."

Eddard watched his little sister as she beamed with joy, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed, and smiled to himself. Maybe as brothers their job was to do more than just keep her safe, after all. A wolf who was coddled could not function and Lyanna Stark was definitely a wolf; as wild and passionate as they came.

The found their way to a stream in a secluded area of the forest, one which Brandon was sure no one ever ventured to.

"We should teach Ly how to swim," he decided as he saw her eyes widen at the sight of the pure, flowing water.

She let out a squeal of delight and tore off her clothes, running down to the surface of the water before turning to see that her brothers were following.

Eddard picked up the girl's discarded tunic and shoes and carefully placed them on top of their own things, before joining his siblings in the alluringly cool water. It was an unusually hot day for the North and the idea of ice cold water to swim about in was too much for the Stark children to resist. Before long they were splashing each other and paddling through the stream to their hearts' content.

It was after an hour or so of this that Brandon heard a strange sound, a faint yelp. The three children stopped what they were doing and listened intently, aware they would be in a lot of trouble with their parents if someone saw them out here. Especially since they had Lyanna with them.

Lyanna, who could be every bit as fearless and rash as Brandon, rushed towards the sounds and stopped short at what she saw. There, in the midst of the undergrowth, mewed four large, fluffy pups. Wolf cubs, she realised as she saw the fangs of the blue grey coloured one who bared her teeth at the girl.

Eddard and Brandon were now right behind her and immediately she felt strong hands dragging her backwards, away from the creatures as they squirmed helplessly before them.

Brandon knelt down and one of the pups with a red tint to its fur sniffed his offered hand nervously before licking the boy's chilly fingers.

Seeing this Lyanna pushed forward once more and also held out a hand towards the creatures. The blue grey coloured one raised its eyes to meet her own with distrust, but ventured towards the human regardless and while she did not lick the fingers in greeting, she did not growl or bare her teeth, settling instead for watching the child's every move and inching closer as she found no threat.

A black coated pup circled Eddard, sniffing and growling low as he prowled around, before rubbing its head against the boy's knee and allowing himself to be stroked.

The fourth pup, a white creature whose fur was speckled with grey, made no move towards the humans but watched the scene with large, grey eyes.

"Can we keep them?" Lyanna asked eagerly as she looked to Brandon.

"Feral wolves, no of course n-" Eddard began before his brother silenced him with a look.

"Four pups," Brandon mused, "four Stark children." They immediately thought of the child soon to be born and Eddard shook his head, seeing where this was leading.

"We are the wolves of Winterfell," Lyanna stated, seeing that Eddard was giving the idea actual thought.

Brandon grinned, "face it Ned, this was meant to be."

"Very well," Eddard sighed, glancing down at the black pup who was now seated beside him. "But you can be the one to convince mother."

* * *

**A/N~** This fic was just something I wanted to explore but don't yet know if I will carry on with as I'm happy concentrating on my **Rhaego: Brother to Dragons** story. But as a distraction I may work more on this as I love the **LyannaxRhaegar** tragedy and would like to get into that as a story. If you like this please let me know, if not I will probably still continue it but may not update as frequently.  
(I'm ashamed to admit but I never find it as fun to write just for myself)

_Thank you to any who have read this!_


	2. Of Family Ties and Musical Strings

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

_**Quick Summary:** Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam the rivers; living a carefree existence she was secure and content. But with each passing year she blossomed into a startlingly beautiful woman who caught the eye of more than one powerful man. She had read stories of a woman named Helen for whom a great war was fought, never had she imagined she would share such a fate._

_Would she escape the clutch of destiny with her life intact, or would the fire and blood consume her whole?_

_Rhaegar was a fierce and proud leader, a warrior, a prince, a husband and a father. Yet it took the spirit and passion of a girl from the North to teach him what made life worth living, but when the price was paid in rivers of blood and cries of babes was it too high?_

_"When you play the Game of Thrones you win or you die."_

_..._

* * *

_**Chapter two:**_

(Of Family Ties and Musical Strings)

* * *

Lyanna was now the proud owner of a baby brother called Benjen and the festivities to celebrate would be soon under way.

Their Lord father had not known what to make of the sight of his three children herding wolves into the courtyard earlier in the day, but after a long talk with Brandon it had been decided that they were allowed to stay. One wolf for each Stark child, Rickard decided his young could do much worse for themselves. Wolves were fierce and loyal and it was said the Starks shared their wild blood, maybe as Brandon had suggested such a bonding had been fated. His one condition was that the children put effort and energy into training the pups, as it was clear that they intended no harm on the children but there were other humans Rickard was responsible for and safety was his main priority. He couldn't have the wolves harassing the staff or visitors, he had made that abundantly clear and would hold to a zero tolerance policy if it came to it.

He had not asked what the children had been doing when they found the creatures, he had not wanted to know. It was not that he did not care for his children, but that he remembered what it was to be young. The freedom to explore, to learn and to find their own way in the world was vital, although he was uncertain how he felt if the boys were to make a habit of dragging their infant sister along on such expeditions.

He may have a word with Brandon later, but for now he had a feast to oversee.

Meanwhile said daughter was causing the staff grief yet again as they scoured the grounds to find her. Finally the Septa, a large woman known only by her title, spotted the dark tresses and small outline of the child and made her way over with as much speed as she could manage.

Lyanna had been half crouched in the long grass of the area farthest away from the house as she played happily with her wolf pup, who bounded around and left play-bites which were more like light nips across the girl's arms as they wrestled. Lyanna was just about to pounce and tackle the pup when she heard a familiar noise.

"Lyanna!" a shrill voice found her. The septa came bustling noisily over and Lyanna laughed to see her wolf bare her teeth at the perceived threat. "Gods be good, Lyanna, what is that beast? Get away from it this moment!"

"She's my friend," Lyanna pouted, placing a hand protectively over the animal's neck to calm it slightly and refusing to budge.

The septa sighed at the stubborn expression on the child's face, taking in the dishevelled hair and torn tunic and despairing that her charge could not have been a gentle natured girl who was calm and collected, a true well bred young lady. Not this feral child who excelled at getting into scrapes yet refused stubbornly to sit still and practise needlework like any proper girl of her station should.

"We can't take it to the feast now can we?" she reasoned as she fought down her fear of the animal and held a wrinkled hand out for the child to take. "So lets say bye-bye to the wolf for now and go get changed before your Lady mother sees the state you're in, shall we?"

Lyanna hesitated, stroking her wolf and staring coldly up at the fussy Septa before finally relenting and taking the pro-offered hand. "Fine."

Not the winning manners of a little lady, but the Septa was willing to take what she could get with this one. She plastered a smile on her face and began chattering excitedly about the pretty dresses they could choose from for this celebration, but Lyanna did not listen as her heart was still with the wolf pup, who she had had to have chained to the fence until she returned, making for a forlorn sight as she began mewing pitifully.

"I'm sorry you're lonely, pup-pup." she whispered behind her as her Septa continued chatting. "I'll be back to play soon."

As they walked away they heard a sad howl as the creature responded. Shivers ran up Lyanna's spine as she glanced back into those cerulean eyes, reflections of her own.

The Septa hurried her on and grumbled to herself about the dangers of wild beasts.

* * *

Lyanna sat unhappily as the maids raked a brush through her hair, so thick and tangled for one so small. She hated getting ready for formal events like this one, the long baths where she was attacked with soaps and sprays, the painful tugs of the brush through her hair, the constricting dresses which tore so easily and the constant watch of eyes as she moved, as she spoke, as she ate. Appraising her. Sometimes she wished she had been lucky enough to be born a boy. Her brothers never had to wear dresses or sew or be calm and still and boring. No! They were encouraged to fight and get mucky, to climb trees and shoot arrows. All the things she longed to do but was never allowed.

Today, climbing the wall and splashing in the water she had felt like she belonged for the first time. As she was moulded into the true little lady her parents would expect her mind wandered and she imagine all of the adventures she would be able to go on with her wolf, all of the trees she would climb and swamps she would explore. Maybe she would even get to go beyond the wall, the terrifying tales of what lay beyond had always fascinated her. Old Nan knew how to tell a story.

By the time the maids had finished with her she looked like a ridiculous doll, so fragile and docile.

"Excellent," proclaimed the Septa. "You'd never know what a wild creature she really was," she smiled in jest, stroking Lyanna's hair affectionately.

The servants all crowded around eager to see the results of their work and smiled in satisfaction to see the serene picture before them. A mirror was then presented to the child herself and she grimaced. Yuck! It was even worse than she'd feared.

With that she was crowded down to the dining room to meet her baby brother for the first time.

_I'm so jealous,_ she thought bitterly at the thought of yet another child being lucky enough to be born a boy. Yet as she was ushered into the large, brightly lit room and hurried forward to glance upon the newborn's face she found she could not begrudge him his good fortune. He was so perfect, his little toes and fingers curled up as they became exposed to the cold, the rest of him wrapped tight in blankets.

"Benjen?" she whispered.

"That's right Ly," her father stroked her hair gently, never taking his eyes off of his newborn son. "Another brother for you to play with."

She nodded and smiled, reaching out a small, chubby finger to trace the lines of his face, exploring his nose and cheekbones with fascination. Just yesterday this baby had been nothing more than a strange bump in her mother's stomach, now he was here with her, his little chest rising and falling as he greedily took in air. She couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned up to face Eddard as he hovered behind her, closely followed by Brandon. As they gathered around the tiny new life she felt a connection deeper than she had ever known. Family, blood ties, whatever it was she wondered if her brothers had felt like this as she was first presented to them.

Outside the four wolves gathered together as if they felt it too, and when Benjen started to cry with hunger the inhabitants of Winterfell heard the eerie echoes of a wolf's cry howling through the trees.

* * *

Days later Brandon, Eddard and Lyanna were playing in the Godswoods with the wolf pups and making the most of the time they had before Brandon would be sent off to Barrowton to be fostered by Lord Dustin, a friend of their father's. The raven had arrived a short while ago giving the date he would be expected and the three siblings had taken the news rather hard, especially Lyanna who idolised her oldest brother.

"Come now Ly," Eddard pressed as he smiled down at his younger sister. "What are you going to call your pup, we can't just keep calling her 'pup-pup'!"

"Yeah," Brandon agreed, "its bad enough Benjen's won't get a name for a while."

Lyanna had been torn between ideas for a while now. While the boys had been decisive in their choices of Mnementh for Brandon's, chosen because of his love of the fantasy stories Dragon Riders of Pern, and Lykaon after a Stark from the history books for Eddard's, Lyanna could not settle on a name which captured her wolf's essence. She looked at the wild cerulean eyes and her mind drew a blank.

Then she traced back where her brothers had got their inspiration from, stories, and thought about her favourite stories, the tales of the Targaryens and their dragons. But she dismissed that as she did not want to insult her wolf by naming her for a dragon, she wanted to name her for her. And who was she? She was Lyanna's mirror, the eyes which reflected her own wild spirit back at her. The creature with the freedoms which Lyanna longed for.

Lyanna's name if she had been a boy would have been Roryn, a name she had always liked as it sounded like 'roaring' and seemed to capture her fierce nature so much better than the ladylike 'Lyanna'. If she were Roryn she would have had all of the freedom to be herself, none of the constraints of being a 'Lady'. Just like her wolf.

"I shall call her Roryn," she pronounced finally, having taken the time to play over this idea in her head. Roryn glanced up and ceased her play for a moment, as if aware she were being discussed, before resuming nibbling Mnementh on his ear and springing away, victorious.

"It suits her," Eddard smiled as the three children watched their wolves roll around in the foliage together.

"It'll be a shame to split them up," Brandon sighed after a few moments.

"Will they let you take Mnementh?" Eddard asked uncertainly.

Brandon paled and his eyebrows knit together, he hadn't thought about that. "They better," he said at last.

Lyanna clung to her brother's hand suddenly, she hated the thought of him leaving.

"Don't go," she implored with a small voice, her eyes wide.

He squeezed her hand in his and smiled sadly down at her. "I have to, Ly, this is our way."

She shook her head violently, her hair flying into her face, and pouted. "Why?"

"Because we are Starks and this keeps the peace," he tried to explain. He ruffled her tangled hair and forced a smile, "Shall we play dragons and knights?" he asked eagerly, not wanting to dwell on the depressing topic.

Pretty soon they had fashioned swords out of branches and were leaping and shouting at each other, engaged in a battle for the kingdom as their wolves played alongside them. Lyanna sought refuge in the muddy waters of the swamp and before long the swords of branches had been replaced with splashed of murky water as the shrieks of child and wolf echoed through the forest.

They trundled home with wet, muddy hair, torn clothes, an impressive collection of bruises and wide smiles on their faces much to the horror of the Septa. These were Lyanna's fondest memories, the days when the three of them were together and they could play like cubs, oblivious to the world outside. And while even as an infant she knew such days could not be forever, this only made the children more determined to enjoy the time that they had.

* * *

Eleven year old Rhaegar Targaryen walked slowly through the ancient library, caressing the leather bound books as he went. His treasures. Each one painted a picture of the world beyond the walls of the castle and through each one he was able to escape, for however long, from the shackles of the expectations placed upon his shoulders as one of the last of his line.

He had no brothers or sisters, no cousins or any other children of his own age in the family. As well as placing a massive responsibility on his small shoulders, this had meant that he was usually lonely and could be found more often than not curled up on a rafter in the library, reading or writing alone.

He stopped and plucked up a book which upset a cloud of dust as it was moved for the first time in years. Running his fingers over the frail paper, enjoying the sensations as he thumbed the crisp, wafer like texture, his eyes skimmed the first page and before long he became fully absorbed in the tale of one of the old dragon riders. His eyes shone as the words became images before him, so vivid he could almost reach out and touch the scales of the creatures of old.

The prince was lost to the world as the minutes shifted to hours, for even as dusk fell and the darkness came his violet eyes were able to make out the ink-script patterns as clearly as if it were still high noon.

However his peace could not last forever.

Before long he was found and dragged to be prepared for the evening meal with the court. How he hated all of the pomp and circumstance, sometimes he watched the common children run around together in packs, unsupervised and unburdened, and imagined he could switch places with them. Just for a day. To go home to a simple meal without having had his hair perfumed and his clothes dictated, to talk about personal things rather than the inner workings of Westeros family politics, to have siblings to share thoughts with instead of servants to order around. He knew that most children would switch places with him in a heart beat, if only for a solid meal, as their lives were actually not the walk in the park he imagined, yet some days he would trade in his rights and privileges as crown prince to just have one friend, one person who cared about what he felt or thought.

He had plenty who used his favour for their own gain, but that was not the companionship he longed for. He wanted a friend who wasn't drawn to his status, yet this seemed impossible when his status was so large that it defined him. To all he was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, to no one was he Rhaegar.

He walked serenely into the grand hall, immune to the smells of perfectly roasted meats and luxurious sauces wafting around as he took his place to his father's right. After he had bowed before the king no greetings were exchanged and he sat in silence throughout the meal as was expected, talking only when spoken to, which was rarely, with pre-arranged answers that conformed to the royal etiquette.

The one part of the meal he looked forward to was the final course of sweetmeats, not because he liked the sweetmeats particularly as his taste was more for the savoury, but because it was at this point in the meal that the court's harpist took centre stage among the musicians and began to play the lilting melodies which enchanted him so.

Rhaella, his Lady mother, watched her son as he became absorbed in the music and an idea occurred to her.

"Rhaegar," she began, interrupting his reverie.

"Yes Mother?" he asked politely, giving her a slice of his attention while still trying to enjoy the music of the harp.

"How would you like to learn to play the harp?" she asked, her kind eyes finding his and delighting as they saw the expression on her reserved son's face.

"Me?" he asked, surprised with his good fortune.

She laughed slightly. "Of course, you. Do you see any other Rhaegar Targaryens I could be addressing?"

He smiled bashfully and nodded his head. "I would love that, Mother."

"It is settled then," she pronounced, her eyes dancing with joy at finally finding something her son may enjoy besides reading alone. "I shall make the arrangements and have Mycella teach you."

Rhaegar was over the moon, learning to play the harp was something he had always wanted to do yet never had the courage to ask for lessons, as he had feared his parents may not approve. Musicians were not held in high regard.

He even allowed himself to hope that maybe the harp girl Mycella could become a friend to him. She was roughly around his age and seemed nice enough.

He watched her finish her routine and exit the stage gracefully.

Maybe...


	3. A Song and Dance

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

_**Quick Summary:** Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam the rivers; living a carefree existence she was secure and content. But with each passing year she blossomed into a startlingly beautiful woman who caught the eye of more than one powerful man. She had read stories of a woman named Helen for whom a great war was fought, never had she imagined she would share such a fate._

_Would she escape the clutch of destiny with her life intact, or would the fire and blood consume her whole?_

_Rhaegar was a fierce and proud leader, a warrior, a prince, a husband and a father. Yet it took the spirit and passion of a girl from the North to teach him what made life worth living, but when the price was paid in rivers of blood and cries of babes was it too high?_

_"When you play the Game of Thrones you win or you die."_

_..._

* * *

_**Chapter three:**_

(A Song and Dance)

* * *

Rhaegar nervously tugged at his long, waspish platinum locks as he hovered outside the door to the ballroom whose acoustics had been deemed proper for his harp lessons. Today was his first session and his stomach danced around with a heavy mixture of nerves and excitement. He hoped he would be a quick study as he was eager to play the more complex, beautiful pieces that so often moved him, yet he had to be realistic. Music was not something that ran in the Targaryen family, art and philosphy yes, frivilous tunes no. What if he had no knack for it? What if he was clumsy and unskilled?

He frowned at the thought, his palms sticky as a part of him longed to just turn and walk away. Dreams could only be shattered if you gave them a chance.

Shaking his head he forced himself to knock before such thoughts could actually sway him, there was no way he was letting himself out of this one. Learning the harp was something he had wanted for so long now, anything less than giving it his best shot would be shameful. The only thing worse than shattered dreams was lost opportunities. Or cowardice.

He rapped on the door and nibbled on his lower lip, eyes lowered shyly.

"Come in!" a chirpy voice called from inside, "it's open."

He struggled to get a grip on the smooth metal of the round door handle and twist it, as his hands were clammy, so he wiped them quickly on his robes before trying again and taking the time to compose himself.

As he pushed open the large, heavy doors and entered the room he couldn't help but smile at the sight of the two large, beautiful instruments placed in the centre of the dance floor. Polished to perfection, the harps reflected the moonlight from outside in soft curves of light, the glossy strings enticing him to stroke them, to explore their secrets, to coax sweet music from their depths. He stopped to stare.

"Hello your Majesty," the chirpy voice cut into his moment as a plump, fair skinned girl of about fourteen smiled up at him. Mycella, his new music tutor.

"H-hello," he managed, flashing her a quick smile before blushing awkwardly and staring at the ground. He didn't interact with other children, or people for that matter, often. And then it was usually only his parents or his servants and maesters so he was not at all certain about how to address this girl. As a friend? As a servant? As a maester?

She curtsied to him and they stood in silence for a few moments.

"So," she began, gesturing vaguely to the two harps uncertainly. "You want to learn to play, your Majesty?"

He nodded, not meeting her gaze, and the silence resumed.

"Well then, please take a seat, your Majesty."

When he made no move to seat himself she cleared her throat nervously and decided to lead by example, taking a seat at the larger of the two harps.

He watched through his eyelashes as she took her position at the instrument, arms outstretched like an ibis, head high and back straight. Her previously plump figure now seemed dignified and slender, she appeared to hold herself differently and it gave her an air she had lacked before. With her mousey brown hair and muddy brown eyes her appearance had not captured his attention at first, he was used to all the glamour and beauty of the court and she was plain by comparison to the majority of women in his life. Yet the moment she took her place at the harp it was as if the beauty of the instrument itself seemed to rub off on her. She became beyond beautiful, so alluring with her serene expression and regal poise.

While still only a boy, it would not be long before he would have the feelings of a man. For now he believed that he just appreciated such aesthetics as an artist would a lovely picture, as beauty had always impressed him from a young age; whether found in an instrument, a sun set or a creature. But he could feel the underlying urges of a new type of appreciation for such womanly beauty, something deeper and more instinctual.

He felt a blush creep across his cheeks as he took his own place next to her, so close he could smell her perfume.

He did not remember much of their first lesson.

* * *

The Stark family gathered to watch as their eldest son was brought down from his chambers to greet the man who would, from now until he reached eighteen, be responsible for him. However, due to urgent matter it seemed Lord Dustin had not been available to come himself but in his stead had sent an escort of twelve soldiers to travel the five day journey to Borrowton with Brandon, who had never seemed smaller now than when surrounded by these large men in armour.

Mnementh sat at his feet, regarding the new strangers warily and never letting his child leave his sight.

One of the soldiers, a man with a large scar running down his face, stepped forward to address Lord Rickard and bowed. "My Lord Dustin sends his apologies he could not be here to greet his good friend and personally welcome his new charge into the house, but you have my word that I shall watch the boy as if he were my own son for this journey, Milord," his eyes sought Lord Rickard's and reassured the Lord with the earnest expression he saw there.

"Thank you soldier," Lord Rickard nodded and smiled at the man. "The final preparations are being made for my son, would you and your men care for food and rest in the mean while? I am certain you require both after such a journey."

Lyanna could tell these soldiers were not such as the ones she had read about in her stories, the Kingsguard, as she saw them visibly relax as they thought of refreshment. Knights and members of the Royal Guard would have more discipline, she noted as she scrutinised these men. But as one of the soldiers saw her watching them and smiled, she decided maybe that was a good thing. She doubted knights would spare smiles for children.

"That would be wonderful, milord," the scarred soldier bowed once more. Then, hesitating slightly, he added "Will the wolf be accompanying us?"

It appears nothing got past this man, who had watched the wolf since arrival and noted how it seemed attached to the young boy at all times. He hoped the wolf would not become a fixture at Barrowton as such a thing could create many unnecessary issues, but with these powerful families nothing was surprising. The Targaryens once kept dragons, after all.

Brandon stiffened and Eddard and Lyanna held their breath, all eyes looking to their father as he appraised the wolf and his son for what seemed like forever. He pursed his lips and taking this as a bad sign Brandon threw caution to the wind.

"Father!" he shouted, the plea in his voice was painful for Lyanna to hear. Her brother never begged.

"Silence, boy." Rickard sent his son a sharp look and Mnementh's tail drooped between his legs as if he understood what was being decided.

Rickard grimaced at the scene, annoyed that Lord Dustin was not here to discuss such a matter with. To make such a decision when he had no idea how lenient the other man could be, or how he would feel about the set up, was a tricky position to be in. But very soon all of the decisions about his son's life would be made by his friend, this was the last significant one he would make for a while and since Lord Dustin was not here it fell entirely on his shoulders to grant or deny his son's request. He would be damned if he would deny the last wish it was in his power to grant, until marriage.

"The wolf goes," he informed the soldier who bowed with a neutral expression and was then dismissed to arrange food and rest for his men with the Winterfell staff. Rickard winked at Brandon, who stared up at him as if unable to believe his luck, before heading to his study to write a letter to Lord Dustin about the wolf pup.

_Good luck with this one, Dusty,_ he thought chuckling to himself. _He can be quite a handful._

Whether he meant the boy or the wolf was anyone's guess.

* * *

Lyanna was immediately at her brother's side, holding his hand, after the adults had left to attend their own duties.

He smiled down at her, "I get to keep Mnementh," he whispered in awe, stroking the neck of the pup.

She nodded, relieved.

He saw the need for comfort in her eyes and drew her close in a hug, "I'll come visit, little pup."

"You better!" she clung to him and buried her face in his gown.

Eddard walked over and put a small hand on Brandon's shoulder, "we'll visit you too." From Eddard that was not just a spoken possibility but a promise. His word was his bond, young as he was, and this reassured Brandon immensely.

"Think of all the new places to explore in Barrowton," his eyes shone as he imagined making an adventure of this with his siblings at his side.

"Can we go with you now?" Lyanna asked, surfacing from his robes with suspiciously wet eyes.

_No_, Bradon didn't say. Instead he took in his sisters watery eyes and sprang away, feigning disgust.

"Eww, Ly has snotted all over me!" he cried in mock outrage, tickling her and swatting at the part of his robe where she had been.

She giggled and squirmed as she tried to break free of his clutches, "No I didn't!" she spluttered between gasps and laughter.

"You did, yuck its all snotty under my arm!" all thoughts of Brandon going to Barrowton were soon forgotten as the children ran around tickling each other, their laughter and shrieks of joy filling the halls for the last time before their first was sent away.

The wolf cubs danced away their innocence but nothing could hold back the ticking of time and before the day was out Brandon was packed and carted away, to begin a new chapter as the charge of Barrowton.

Lyanna cried herself to sleep that night as Roryn howled, the eerie sounds replacing the laughter as it echoed around the halls. Eddard could not sleep and crept into his sister's room for comfort where the two of them kept a silent vigil for the lost member of their pack. When they were found the next morning it was curled up on the floor in a heap of children and wolves, pale faced and tear streaked.

* * *

When, one year later, Eddard was also sent away to be fostered, this time by another friend of her father's called Jon Arryn, Lyanna could not find the tears to cry. She only felt hollow inside, incomplete.

Her wolf cried though. Roryn was inconsolable upon losing another brother. The child and wolf grew ever closer as they were stripped of those they loved.

At least Benjen and Pup-pup, the name they would use for the youngest wolf until the youngest Stark said otherwise, were still with them. But Lyanna could not help but wonder how long it was until they were sent away, too. As a result she had at first refused to get too close to her baby brother, yet as he grew she could not help but idolise him.

The pain of losing him one day may be great, but the pain of never having known him to begin with would burn worse and she could only blame herself for that one.

Besides, for now who else would be there to teach him archery and climbing, swimming and sword fighting? In the absence of brothers Lyanna stepped up and from the time Benjen could crawl she was starting him on sword play. She may never be a great warrior, held back by her gender, but she would not be prevented from moulding her baby brother into a man to be proud of.

As they sat outside on a day when the sun streaked through the clouds, she smiled a dimpled smile at her baby brother and he turned to look at her when she cooed his name. A mischievous glint entered his eyes and as he turned his head in her direction he plucked up a fistful of the mushed up baby food set before him. He was one and a half years old and full of life.

Lyanna smiled as his eyes sought her out and by the time she had noticed the handful of mush he threw towards her it was too late. He gurgled with delight as his afternoon snack landed on her shoulder and she in turn laughed loudly, taken by surprise, before wiping some of the muck of her shoulder and flicking it in his direction, splashing his chin and chest with food.

Maybe no moulding was required, she thought, for glancing at his cheeky smile as he smothered his food over them both she realised that he was already someone to be proud of. The archery skills, fighting and boisterous behaviour she longed to impart on him counted for something but at the end of the day all that mattered was the fact that he was her brother.

The Starks may be wild and rash, honourable and courageous, fierce and untameable, but although these traits were important the main definition of a Stark was loyalty. Like wolves in a pack they were loyal to the end and as Lyanna watched her youngest brother chew on his food covered fist with a smug grin on his face, she knew that regardless of distance or time, the Stark siblings would never be truly separated where it mattered the most. In their souls.

She counted herself blessed as she wiped the last traces of baby food from her tunic.


	4. Atop Maegor's Holdfast

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

_**Quick Summary:** Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam the rivers; living a carefree existence she was secure and content. But with each passing year she blossomed into a startlingly beautiful woman who caught the eye of more than one powerful man. She had read stories of a woman named Helen for whom a great war was fought, never had she imagined she would share such a fate._

_Would she escape the clutch of destiny with her life intact, or would the fire and blood consume her whole?_

_Rhaegar was a fierce and proud leader, a warrior, a prince, a husband and a father. Yet it took the spirit and passion of a girl from the North to teach him what made life worth living, but when the price was paid in rivers of blood and cries of babes was it too high?_

_"When you play the Game of Thrones you win or you die."_

_..._

Okay this chapter (towards the end) they actually meet (at last).  
Thank you for your patience as I set up the characters, now on to some proper RhaegarxLyanna scenes!

* * *

_**Chapter four:**_

(Atop Maegor's Holdfast)

* * *

Aged five

Running through the grove she felt the wind comb her hair, styling it better than the silly maids ever could with Lyanna's trademark look; wild. Her heart beat fast and the only sound she could hear above the thumping of her own chest was the panting of the wolf as it ran alongside her. The two were overjoyed to feel the freedom of the run as the familiar thrum of adrenaline surged through their veins. Her eyes felt dry and she blinked, forming tears to sooth and cleanse which the wind quickly streaked down her face. The sharp chill in the air refreshed her and as she began to pant she was delighted to see her own breath spiral around her face.

Like a dragon.

She would be visiting the palace soon, seeing the famous Red Keep of Kings Landing for the first time. It was the prince's Rhaegar's thirteenth birthday and with him reaching such an age a grand party was to be thrown which every important house of the land was expected to attend.

Lyanna did not care for such occasions, but the opportunity to see the rumoured dragon skulls in the cellars of the Red Keep was irresistible, not to mention the chance to be reunited with her older brothers. It had been too long since she had seen either of them and some nights as she said her prayers she could not even recall the details of their faces. But tonight the Starks of Winterfell would set off towards Kings Landing and within two weeks, maybe three depending on her brother's guardian houses' haste, they would be together again. For four whole weeks. To five year old Lyanna that sounded like an eternity of play and she could not wait.

But before then there would be much travelling as the journey from the North to the Red Keep would be long and laborious so she and Roryn were making the most of this last day where they would not be confined to a cramped coach. She was too young to ride a horse, much to her frustration, and she knew that such a journey would drive her crazy before long as she would be confined for most hours of the day for weeks. This was not something she was used to.

At least her wolf would be free to run alongside the coach as they moved.

Her legs began to feel wobbly and she had to slow down, her wolf now dancing around her as if pleading to continue with their fun but not willing to leave the girl's side. Lyanna sighed and leaned against a tree to get her breath back, hating how, even though she was much more capable than the toddler that had followed her brothers around eagerly when they were still in Winterfell, she still could not run or climb or swim as she pleased. She grew stronger with each passing day but it was never enough for her, her spirit longed to break free of the confines of the frail young body that held her back.

She longed to dance unshackled with the wolves.

Having reached her limits the girl turned around and led Roryn back to Winterfell as it would soon be time to depart. The run had been wonderful and would hopefully sustain her for a while as she would sit in the carriage with nothing to occupy her but the fiddly needlework she so despised. It was with a tired smile that she trudged through the winding paths back to her home hoping that her absence had not been noted by the overbearing Septa. Roryn padded companionably at her side with her tongue lolling out and her eyes bright, looking up at her child every so often protectively.

"We'll see them soon Roryn," Lyanna whispered, stroking the scruff of her neck tenderly. "Our brothers will be waiting for us."

The canine wagged her tail enthusiastically as they locked gazes, sharing their excitement for the upcoming reunion.

Unlike most of the young ladies of Westeros, Lyanna Stark spared no thought as to what the Targaryen prince himself may be like. Her mind held no space for such wonderings, filled as it was with thoughts of her brothers and the mysteries of the dragons to be found.

* * *

Rhaegar retreated back to the library where he could be alone. He was soon to turn thirteen and the whole Kingdom was set to turn up at his doorstep for the occasion. It was going to be torture, having to face all of those people and make small talk. Not to mention the fact that he had been required to spend the last month or so memorising the names, titles, honours awarded to and politics between every single important family in Westeros. His eyes had glazed over after the first half an hour and he had spent much energy and effort into finding new and plausible ways to procrastinate.

Now he had had enough and was just desperate to surrender and lock himself away from the demands of the human race. Forever.

Upon entering the large, dusty library the smell of aged leather and papyrus soothed him and he could feel his worries begin to slip away. He made his way to the section on the tales of knights and their valour, something he was enthralled with at the moment and read about with every spare second. He especially thrilled at the tales of the old days when royal blood knights rode fearsome dragons into battle to protect the kingdom. He knew that such days were long past and that dragons were no more, but sometimes he became so wrapped up in the vivid stories that he allowed himself to imagine taming his own dragon and riding through the wind over the streets of Westeros to the cheers of adoring peasants and nobles alike.

Yet deep down he felt that, even if dragons did somehow still exist, he would never deserve one as he was no mighty warrior, only a timid, harp playing child who was wary of people and bloodshed. Sometimes he even doubted that he was a true Targaryen, if it weren't for his physical features he may have believed he were adopted. He sometimes overheard his father tell his mother that he was the "weak link" in the long, proud line, mourning the fact they had conceived no other children, and this broke Rhaegar's heart. He loved his parents but sometimes he hated them too.

The look on King Aery's face when he had found out his son was receiving harp lessons, in place of the extra lessons in archery or jousting which a prince should desire instead, was devastating and as Rhaegar swung himself to his favourite rafter to dive into yet another book, he paused. Come his thirteenth name day he would be a man and, as he traced the image of a knight wielding a long, sharp sword in victory lightly with his finger, an unfamiliar urge welled up inside him. He decided that from this day he would begin training for real to become a skilled and fierce warrior, a man who would bring pride to his father's heart.

He would continue with the harp, learning music alongside war craft.

* * *

The next day as Rhaegar strummed the slick strings of the harp, eyes closed and head titled back as he lost himself in the music, Mycella pouted her lips and checked her distorted reflection in the polished metal of her own instrument.

"Excellent as always, your majesty," she gushed as he had finished, caressing him with her eyes and causing him to blush.

"Well, I did make an error-" he began, but she waved him away.

"Nonsense, it was perfect."

_Of course, as always,_ he thought frowning slightly at the meaningless praise. She was never anything but full of compliments for his music, his hair, his very existence and even when he himself noticed mistakes, she would never pick up on them but dismiss his self-scrutiny with another 'it was perfect' or 'you were brilliant.' He just wished she would be more-

His thoughts were cut short as she glanced up at him through her long eyelashes with an expression that clenched his stomach.

"Absolutely perfect," she repeated, this time caressing each syllable on her tongue in a way which heated his blood. He stared at her with his mouth slightly open, drawn to the movement of her lips as she began to whisper something more to him as if suddenly shy. "I hear its your name day soon, your majesty."

The way she spoke she made it sound like an intimate secret, despite the fact the whole kingdom was aware and attending his name day festivities.

He nodded numbly and she smiled a slow, mischievous smile.

"I hear you become a man," she rose up from the harp and walked towards him, stroking the strings of the instrument as she passed to create a faint and beautiful strumming which echoed softly around the two of them for a moment. He watched her with wide eyes as she approached and flinched slightly as her hand touched his shoulder, dancing lightly along his collar bone and up his neck to his face until she held his chin in her long fingers.

For a long moment all he could do was look into her eyes, seeing the violet of his own reflected back at him. A strong blush crept across his face as adult thoughts flitted across his mind and he felt himself becoming affected by the closeness of the older girl's well developed body. From this angle he could see down her corset and he had to tear his eyes away reluctantly to stop himself from thinking - or doing - something he should not.

Her smile grew.

Often in the past she had looked in his direction suggestively, but he had been oblivious, wrapped up in the music. Yet now she commanded his full attention and as she began to stroke his chest with her free hand her eyes gleaming playfully in the candlelight. The sensations were alien and powerful and before he knew what he was doing he had reached out a hand and cupped one of her large breasts, stroking the soft material of her dress cautiously with his thumb and causing the girl to sigh. He had no idea what he was doing, but she seemed to as she pulled him to his feet and ran her hands through his hair and over his face and body. Causing him to sigh.

Before he knew it she was kissing him and he kissed back, first timidly but then, as the fire in his belly was awakened, with more confidence and passion.

"Oh your majesty!" she whispered with a hoarse voice as she began to kiss a trail down his neck to his collar bone and back again.

And while it did not stop him from exploring these new urges with his willing and curvaceous music tutor, a large part of him wished she had whispered his name instead of his title.

* * *

Rhaegar stood on the cobbled roof of Maegor's Holdfast, a tower from which he could see all of the Red Keep laid out before him, and watched as the carriages filled to the brim with new guests poured into the outer yard. Before long he would be required to greet them, but as they settled into the temporary quarters and sorted their practical requirements he was free to steer clear. It was this evening that he would be presented to them, expected to give a speech of welcome followed by doing the rounds and greeting each head of an important family individually.

He had finally memorised the list given by his Maester.

Gaunte, Arryn, Ladybright, Harte, Reed, Lannister, Tully, Martell, Tudbury, Hersey, Blount, Hornwood, Mallery, Bracken, Grell, Fell, Baratheon and Stark... Those were but a few of the families he had studied and whose banners he could make out among the throng of arrivals. So small, like ants they scurried frantically. From up here he could hear no arguments or gossip, only the sound of the wind as it howled and brought the tangy taste of salt to his lips. His hair was whipped wildly about his face and his gown billowed as he stood and watched the silent commotion below. He felt so detached, just how a ruler should be, as his eyes followed the comings and goings of servants and noble alike.

Without warning a small, dark haired head popped up at his side and the shock nearly stopped his heart for a moment. He was at the top of a tower, what was this creature who just appeared not from the doorway to the stairs but from the _outside of the tower. _What in the Gods names?!

The top of the head was soon followed by a face and the prince watched awestruck as two large, grey blue eyes stared over at him, mirroring his own shock at seeing someone there. A small hand shot over the top of the tower and before long the creature - a girl child - was hauling herself up and over the rocks that formed the wall towards him. His senses kicked in and he rushed forward to help her over, fearing she would easily fall and break her neck. It was not a short drop.

As he held out a hand to help her she eyed him warily and ignored the offer, grasping the jagged edges of rock to secure herself and the dragging first her skinny legs and then the rest of her body in an undignified roll over the wall of Maegor's Holdfast and falling in a heap to the floor, panting and laughing hysterically between gasps of air.

He crouched down to her side, shocked to see she must be no more than four or five years old.

"Are you insane?!" he demanded, risking a peek over the wall from where she had arrived and being rewarded by a view which made his head swim. "You just climbed up Maegor's Holdfast!"

A small smile crossed her lips as she once more locked her gaze upon his. "I did," she panted, her face flushed with delight, "and what's it to you?" she challenged with an arrogance he had never been met with. No 'your majesty', no bow, no obeisance.

He shook his head and gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm just shocked, that's all."

She grinned up at him and sprung to her feet as if ready for more action. "I'm Lyanna Stark, who are you?" she asked, curiously appraising his hair and eyes which he knew were so unusual as to make him a commodity for those who had never met a member of the royal family.

"I'm Rhaegar," he answered and smiled inwardly at the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

But instead of being amazed at his royal status as prince the exclamation she made was on a slightly different level. "You're a dragon?" she asked, eyes widening in awe.

He had never been asked this question and he hesitated, not knowing what the correct response would be.

Her eyes danced and she began talking so quickly with excitement that he had some difficulty keeping up. "I'm a Stark and we are wolves, so I am a wolf proud and strong, if you are a Targaryen then you are of the family of dragons which means you're a dragon! Can you breath fire? Or fly? Do you have a pet dragon? I have a pet wolf..."

She looked at him expectantly and he saw that now was his chance to get a word in edgeways. "I am of the family of dragons but have no pet dragon," he began, "I would very much like to meet your wolf though" he smiled shyly at her and was rewarded with a large grin in return.

"She's just down there," the girl pointed back down the way she had come and sure enough over the wall at the bottom of the Holdfast he could just make out what appeared to be a canine waiting expectantly for this child's return. She placed her hands in position to climb back over the wall of the Holdfast and Rhaegar realised with horror that she was intending to climb down the tower the way she had come.

He grabbed her small wrist in his soft hands and smiled his most winning smile. "How about we take the stairs?" he suggested, pointing to the stone doorway at the opposite side of the roof.

She sighed as if such an idea were tiresome but eventually nodded, shaking free of his grip with a pointed glare. "I suppose."

As he followed the small figure down the stone carved stairs he shook his head slightly. _Lyanna Stark, huh? This child was either fearless of just downright insane._..

Either way she would make for an interesting companion these next few weeks, he smiled.


	5. Lonely at the Top

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

_**Quick Summary:** Lyanna Stark was an untameable wolf, wild and free. As a girl she ran through fields and climbed up buildings, fought with swords made from branches and swam the rivers; living a carefree existence she was secure and content. But with each passing year she blossomed into a startlingly beautiful woman who caught the eye of more than one powerful man. She had read stories of a woman named Helen for whom a great war was fought, never had she imagined she would share such a fate._

_Would she escape the clutch of destiny with her life intact, or would the fire and blood consume her whole?_

_Rhaegar was a fierce and proud leader, a warrior, a prince, a husband and a father. Yet it took the spirit and passion of a girl from the North to teach him what made life worth living, but when the price was paid in rivers of blood and cries of babes was it too high?_

_"When you play the Game of Thrones you win or you die."_

_...  
_

Just a quick thank you to _Hisan_ for your kind reviews of the previous two chapters. Since I can't find your account to thank you in a private message I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your support here. I'm sorry this is only a short chapter, the next will be longer, but I wanted to get one up ASAP just so there was something :D  
Thanks to all who read this story, you guys are great!

* * *

_**Chapter five:**_

(Lonely at the Top)

* * *

"So how did you come to have a wolf for a pet, Lyanna?" Rhaegar asked as they made their way down the seemingly endless spirals of stairs.

"Found them in the woods," she threw back, not even glancing in his direction as she flew down step after step, her hair flying behind her as the echoes of their feet hitting the stones rang out around them.

"Them?" he queried, confused.

"There are four, one for each Stark child," she slowed her pace slightly to explain. "Mine is a girl called Roryn. She can't climb buildings."

"Oh," he said raising an eyebrow at the genuine puzzlement in her voice as she admitted her wolf's limitation, "That is surprising."

She shrugged her small shoulders before picking up the pace once more.

"And why did you climb the tower?" he asked after a few moments of silence, surprising himself with such questions as he was never usually an eager conversationalist. This girl just intrigued him and he wanted to know everything.

She shrugged. "I like to climb. You're a dragon, don't you climb?" she turned and looked up at him from three steps down, halting once more. Her eyes searched his and he was not sure what it was that she hoped to find there.

He dropped her gaze and sighed. "I can't even climb a tree," he admitted blushing.

She scoffed at this, then spun and was on the move yet again in a blur of motion. "I could teach you," she offered finally. "You'd make a pretty useless dragon if you can't even climb. It's the closest we get to flying."

_I make a pretty useless dragon anyway,_ he thought bitterly before quietly saying "Okay then, teach me."

"Okay then, I will."

And that was that.

* * *

Once they reached the ground floor Rhaegar was breathing heavily, not used to the pace of this child, while she seemed unaffected.

"Roryn!" she cried happily as they walked outside and the wolf approached, eyeing the prince with heavy suspicion. Lyanna began to pet her creature and it was as if he had been forgotten, she became oblivious to all else as she gazed into the wolf's deep blue eyes and ran her hands through his soft fur.

He cleared his throat, unused to being ignored, and when she did not respond to that he decided to take matters into his own hands and stepped forward towards the wolf with a hand held out and what he hoped was a friendly expression on his face. The hackles on Roryn's back rose and she bared her teeth, growling at him. Lyanna turned on him too, her eyes now cold and distant.

"Back away," she warned and he did not hesitate to obey.

Roryn calmed down but did not take her eyes off of him as she strode in between her human and this stranger who smelt of fire, alert and ready to protect Lyanna if necessary. She let out one last low warning growl before quietening down properly and Rhaegar saw that he would be making no canine friends that day, much to his disappointment.

"She doesn't like me," he murmured sadly, hanging his head in disappointment.

Lyanna stared at him for a moment. "You have to earn the love of a wolf," she told him, "but when you have it you can't lose it."

"A love you can't lose?" he frowned, used to the love at court which could be as fickle as the wind.

She nodded and something passed between them but was quickly interrupted by the arrival of a young girl in an elaborate dress who rushed up towards Rhaegar, giving him her best smile, her blonde curls bouncing as she moved. Once she arrived the only attention she bestowed on the Stark girl was to appraise her with a swift scan of her eyes and smile to herself haughtily when she found Lyanna to be lacking any beauty or charm at all. Lyanna glanced up from Roryn briefly to notice the new companion and it was clear from her expression that she also found this girl to be not overly impressive as she once more ignored all others in favour of fussing her wolf.

"Prince Rhaegar," the blonde cried, giving a perfectly executed formal curtsy. "Happy Name Day Celebration, your majesty!"

While he plastered the necessary courtier's smile over his face in greeting to this child, inside he cringed. The newcomer was Cersei Lannister the six year old daughter of his father's hand, Lord Tywin, and she had been besotted with him since she was an infact, always following him around and getting under his feet. In short she was a nuisance. She was quickly followed by her twin brother Jaime, the two were never separated. In contrast to his eager-to-please sister however, Jaime gave only the most brief of bows to Rhaegar before looking with interest to Lyanna and her wolf. Cersei's attention, however, was not so easily diverted.

"Hello Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, I trust you had a pleasant journey?" he enquired politely, wishing he had stayed up on the roof of the Holdfast with the Stark girl. Alone.

"Perfectly pleasant," she beamed, her bright blue eyes gazing adoringly at him as she began prattling on about something. He tried to concentrate but was distracted by the conversation Jaime was having with Lyanna just to his left.

"So this wolf is yours?" Jaime's eyes widened as he glanced between Lyanna and Roryn.

She nodded and gave a faint smile, "Her name is Roryn and she is just over two years old."

He whistled. "How much do they cost? I want one."

Lyanna scowled and wrinkled her nose at such a question, "You don't buy them, they choose you."

Rhaegar wanted to laugh as he heard this, imagining what a Lannister would make of the fact there were some things money couldn't buy.

"Your majesty?" Cersei's tone snapped his attention back, although he did not miss her twin's disappointed face at the news he would be unable to purchase such a creature, and he turned to the child before him who stood, hands on hips and eyes narrowed, staring up at him with a hurt expression on her small face. "Have you even been listening to me?"

How rude of him. "I'm sorry, my lady," he bowed and hoped that a show of courtly gestures would make up for his slight. "I was half listening to your brother's talk of buying wolves as this fascinating creature has taken my fancy also." He indicated the wolf but was unsure himself whether he really meant the girl.

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "Girl," she addressed Lyanna imperiously, "where did you purchase this creature? I wish to make a gift of one to my prince on his name day."

Rhaegar was taken aback at such a request but Lyanna met Cersei's eyes evenly. "Wolves are not for sale, Roryn chose me in the woods."

Cersei sneered. "Chose you?"

Lyanna stood up and nodded solemnly. "I am a Stark of Winterfell, we are direwolves. Roryn was a pup when she came to me." Tired of explaining herself now she crouched down to focus on her pet, the rest of them forgotten or dismissed from her awareness.

"Well," Cersei decided, "if wolves choose Starks then us Lannisters should have lions. I shall talk to father." Then she muttered, "Lions are better than wolves anyway."

Jaime beamed with boyish excitement at the thought of a pet lion. "Father would never refuse us!"

The two of them rushed away in a flurry of silks and perfume, leaving Rhaegar alone once more with his new friend.

Suddenly the wolf looked up with excitement and began wagging her tail, then before he knew what was happening the two of them took off as Lyanna rushed eagerly after her wolf. For a second he debated whether or not to follow as he began to feel shy. However, in the end his curiosity and unwillingness to lose sight of this girl far outweighed any insecurities he may have and in the blink of an eye he had also set off running after the wolf and her girl, creating a most undignified sight. Heads turned as people recognised their prince giving chase to a child and a beast but Rhaegar was oblivious, concerned only with not losing sight of the wild dark hair as it weaved through the crowds of people and caravans before him.

"Bran!" Lyanna cried, bursting with excitement as she sighted a boy who was just a few years younger than the prince. The boy looked up and as he saw Roryn and Lyanna tearing towards him his face lit up with a giant smile.

"Ly!" he called as he rushed towards the child and swooped her up in his arms, holding her tight and burying his face into her hair. Roryn leapt up at the boy, licking his hand as he reached down to pet her and wagging her tail madly. "Ly, you're here!" the boy whispered in shock, refusing to put her down as she clung to him as if for dear life.

Rhaegar slowed his pace, reluctant to interrupt such a reunion. Part of him had never felt more alone as he watched this moving show of deep affection, knowing that no one would miss him enough to greet him in such a way. His chest tightened and he glanced at the floor, feeling foolish and out of place witnessing something he would never know personally in spite of, or perhaps due to, his position as prince. Princes were heirs created to serve a purpose, they married for a purpose and procreated for a purpose. They did nothing for love.

They knew nothing of this bond between siblings. Had he actually had siblings he imagined they would have been raised more as rivals than partners.

Watching Lyanna with what he could only assume, from the shared eye colour and physical features, was her brother he wished once again, more desperately than ever before, that he could have been born a commoner. A fruitless desire but one which shadowed him throughout his life. He may love the idea of being a dragon as any child would, but he also knew first hand the painful reality of holding such a station.

It was lonely at the top.


End file.
